“But sure, make me late, spin it like it’s my fault.”Because Wulfric had already walked past Callum, and his younger brother nor anyone else of import would see it, he permitted himself a liberal eyeroll. As if he needed to do that, and
as if he would.
Given that he had no issue speaking coherently, and moreover, was quite capable of his usual sassy backtalk and even exhibited his annoying tendency to quote out of context, Wulfric supposed Callum was not quite as out of his mind with drunkenness as he’d initially assumed. Still, it remained a fact that he was worryingly over-reliant on alcohol. Not only did he see no issue with it, he apparently viewed this trait as a positive in some ways. ‘Drunken and jolly’ indeed.
No matter. There were now two months in which his attempts to alleviate the problem should yield a higher rate of success…More so than at any other point in their past. The sooner he set up some sort of intervention, the better.
***
Aside from lacking his sabre, which unfortunately wasn’t suitable for the coming event, Wulfric returned to the Entrance Hall looking more or less the same. His servants had made exceptionally quick work wiping down his body of accumulated sweat (not that there was much of it), reapplying some perfume (orange and black pepper), and attending to other various minor tasks. Pleased with their smoothly organized efforts, he had granted them an early break as a reward.
Despite their swiftness, and his steps being a hair short of rushed, he did arrive a tad past eleven. Of course, it wasn’t as if his father was punctual. Auguste, however, was already there, and Wulfric offered him a brief nod in acknowledgment.
Callum managed to show up very shortly after, and he had done…something. Water
had been involved, and his brother now also held a cup of coffee.
Ah, well. It was not as if anything more could be done right then. But
next time, he’d have someone introduce his sibling to the wonders of make-up.
The first prince let himself be led to his designated table, gaze sweeping across the crowd. He formed a small smile for them, and bowed shallowly at the audience before taking his seat.
Edin arrived as loudly as ever, and Wulfric did not let his words perturb his countenance. As reprehensible as it was, Callum being dismissed or denigrated by their father was par for the course. But really, if nothing else, one might think he would prefer
not to lend credence to those rumours of his youngest being a bastard with his remarks. Of course, it was entirely possible he did it on purpose, and took some sort of twisted pleasure in it.
The man by the king’s side was a very unlikely surprise, and the prince took him in curiously.
Albert? No… This man happened to have a particularly memorable name. Alden, the same as Auguste’s middle name. And a thematically fitting last name…
“Plannington,” Wulfric greeted him.
“A pleasure to have you back,” he returned smoothly, though it very much remained to be seen whether his presence was a positive or not.
“You yourself have matured as well, no?” he raised a pointed eyebrow. Advisor he may be, but it was still ridiculous to have someone so close to his age commenting on how ‘young’ and ‘grown’ they all were. Smirking, he added,
“And surely, your travels have contributed to that. Recount me your experiences sometime, hm?”Then, it was time to watch the spectacle of Edin making preliminary selections of the hopefuls. Some impertinent commoner thought she could be his wife, when she should be grateful that she even had the chance to see him up close. His lips twisted in dark amusement as he dismissed the peasant’s ogling with a piercing glance.
You better cherish that for life, girl.Naturally, she and her friend were the first ones escorted out. Seven others soon followed. ‘Delusional’ was an apt descriptor, but it applied not only to this group, bur rather, to everyone who’d gathered today. Every one of them who believed they had a chance to marry him or one of his brothers simply because they could meet today…What was that, if not delusion? Though his father was in the same boat, if he honestly thought this event would result in a match for any one of them.
For some reason, Plannington held back one of the initial ten women. To prolong their collective suffering, or…? Folding his hand to lean on, Wulfric gave the lady a brief, bored look, his demeanour oozing insouciance. But because there were some more interesting faces at the front of the line, he let his gaze slide right over her.
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